


Good Arms vs. Bad Arms

by lurrel



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: BDSM, Blindfolds, M/M, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:43:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurrel/pseuds/lurrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's tied up and ridden hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Arms vs. Bad Arms

Arthur isn’t really sure where this thing that’s developed between him and Eames is going, but he can always tell when Eames is ready to push.

He gets a glint in his eye when he wants something extra, something beyond, and he’s been looking at Arthur for an hour, not even paying attention to the television.

It's how Eames looks when he wants _more_.

It’s driving Arthur crazy and starting to distract him, which is stupid because Eames isn’t doing anything. The TV is even at a reasonable murmur. Arthur sighs and gives in.

“You’re plotting something,” Arthur says, looking up from his laptop to where Eames is lounging on the hotel bed.

“Arthur,” Eames says, eyebrows raised, “It sounds like you don’t trust me.”

Arthur is about to snap “I don’t,” but he bites down on it, because it isn’t true.

“I just like to be safe,” is what he settles on, which is true, because sometimes when he’s with Eames it feels like he could shake apart at any moment. 

Which, Eames would remind him, is the point.

“I just want you to strip.” Eames says it like a challenge, not blinking, and Arthur isn't one to shy away from a fight.

So Arthur turns, saves his spreadsheets, closes his laptop, and walks toward the wardrobe. Where he does strip, back to Eames, carefully putting away his shirt, his belt, his slacks, pulling off his socks until he’s bare. He feels his stomach go fluttery because he doesn’t hear Eames moving to do the same.

When he looks over, Eames is just watching, intent, and he looks Arthur in the eye and lets a slow smile curl over his face. He moves off the bed toward him, wrapping a hand around his hip, letting the other tangle in his hair as he pulls Arthur in for a kiss. 

His hand palms the swell of Arthur’s ass and Arthur tries not to shiver.

“These are the rules,” he says into Arthur’s neck, running a hand down Arthur’s chest. “You get what I give you,” he says and nips at Arthur’s clavicle, and then he tweaks at a nipple and Arthur makes a small noise. 

Arthur thrusts his hips and their cocks bump through Eames’ trousers. “That’s just one rule.” 

He grabs Arthur’s belt from the wardrobe. “Well.” He runs the leather over Arthur’s wrists. “I’ll be tying you up, too.”

Eames can see the moment that Arthur decides to play the game. He can see it in the way Arthur’s blushing again, in the way his eyes are dark and wide, the unconscious bite of lower lip.

“I guess that would be acceptable,” he says, but it’s soft. Eames pulls back and pushes Arthur to the bed, then straddles him. 

He looks down, watching him stretch his arms above his head, his hands tightening around the metal of the headboard, waiting. Arthur smiles up and says, “Now I know why you picked this hotel.” 

Eames just laughs and runs feather light fingers down his neck and up his biceps. He leaves the belt on the bed next to them and seems to like how uncertain Arthur looks.

He keeps touching, using both hands and his mouth to caress each bit of Arthur’s totally exposed skin, biting a nipple while running a thumb over the other. He’s looking down at Arthur, whose mouth is parted slightly as he watches Eames, his wariness being worn down by each touch and tease. Eames slides his hands from Arthur’s chest to his back and then, suddenly, rakes his nails down the skin.

Arthur moans and bucks up, the tip of his cock damp with precum, and Eames smiles indulgently. Arthur’s hands are still curled around the metal headboard. 

“Oh Arthur,” he says, not unfondly. “I think I know just the thing.”

  
-

The silk of the tie against his eyes is cool, and Eames makes sure to be gentle with it. Arthur’s world becomes dark, but he likes it, it’s soothing when Eames is dragging all his nerves to the surface, and Arthur can feel him standing by the bed, just running his hands lightly over his sides.

He knows he’s sucking in air but it feels like he’s barely getting oxygen, and he feels Eames grab something off the bed. It’s probably his belt. 

“You sound a little impatient there,” Eames says, and Arthur suddenly can hear the small whines that are coming out of his own mouth. “Look it, too,” he says, and then he roughly grabs Arthur’s straining cock. 

“Oh fuck,” Arthur moans. It’s guttural and strained and Eames is smiling, watching his hands as they fly open and then jerk closed. He scrapes his nails down the inside of Arthur’s left thigh. His body jumps in response, and Arthur just. Arthur feels raw all over, and he can feel Eames lick along the line of his hipbones, kiss the backside of his knee and then he’s twisting a nipple – the gentle touches melt right into the sharp, small pains. 

Eames licks a hot wet stripe from the right above his cock to his navel, along the course hair there, and Arthur can’t stop the dark sounds he’s making, can’t help arching his back. “I think you like this,” Eames says as his hands touch every part of Arthur except his cock. “Maybe I don’t even need to tie you up.”

Arthur doesn’t know that his hands are suddenly tangled in Eames’ hair, that his hips are off the bed, he just knows that his cock is finally in Eames’ mouth and that it’s wonderful, that it’s hot and wet and suddenly it’s not, and Arthur’s hips are being shoved down, and it’s just cold air hitting him.

“Eames, god, Eames,” Arthur pants out, his hands falling slack onto the bed. “Please,  _fuck_ , what is it going to take.”

The bed creaks and Eames is talking into his ear. “I wanted to see how long you’d keep your hands there on your own.”

Arthur can feel the smile in Eames’ voice, and he doesn’t want to say it except he does, he really does, he needs it.

“Just. Tie me up, okay? Shit.” Arthur’s voice trembles and he hates it.

Eames laughs, but it’s soft and warm, and then he’s moving around, off the bed, and his big hands are tugging gently at his arms, pushing the wrists together and wrapping his belt around them, then around the metal headboard. He feels Eames pull it tight, buckling it, and then move away.

Arthur tugs and feels the leather bite into his wrists, and he’s sure there’ll be marks in the morning, and he can feel Eames clamber back onto the bed, bracketing him with his legs. 

“All mine, now, Arthur,” he says and then he kisses him, gentle, slow, his tongue taking its time in meeting Arthur’s mouth.

It’s enough, because Arthur can feel himself move, can feel himself fight it, his mind is getting blanker by the second, because he can’t.

He can’t do anything but let Eames.

 

-

 

When Eames pulls back he runs a thumb over Arthur’s bottom lip. “There’s a love,” he says, and it’s full of round affection. Arthur doesn’t want to think about it so he doesn’t, just licks at the pad Eames’ thumb until he feels it being replaced by just the head of his cock. 

He laps at that too, trying to get more into his mouth, because his earlier frenzy is ebbing away with each shallow thrust Eames is making into his mouth. Arthur whines when Eames pulls back and bites his lip when he feels Eames move off the bed.

“You’re really quite lovely like this, you know that Arthur?” Eames is saying from somewhere off to the side, and Arthur shivers, naked and cold without the extra heat of the other man. He can hear Eames shedding clothing, opening the bathroom door, and then he can hear…he can hear something, some noises. 

“Eames?” he says, and it takes him too long to find a voice.

“I’m here,” Eames says and there’s a warm hand on his belly that moves to fist his cock, once, and he rolls his hips up.

“Greedy, aren’t we?” Eames asks and he presses a kiss to Arthur’s hip before biting into it. Arthur tries not to kick out, tries not to moan when he feels Eames roll a condom down his cock, when he feels Eames slicking him.

“It would be shame to just get you off without putting you to some use, wouldn’t it?” Eames asks and Arthur wishes he’d just stop asking questions because he knows, he knows Arthur can’t answer them, can’t really say much more than –

“Eames!” It comes out like a yelp as the man slowly, so slowly sinks down onto his cock, and it’s tight and hot and so slow and really that’s it, Arthur can only think about the slick up and down rhythm that Eames is setting, can only rock his hips up and pull, yank on the headboard behind him because he’d love to be touching Eames.

Eames takes his time, rocking back, touching Arthur’s chest, his ribs, leaning over him and putting a bruise on his neck with his mouth. He’s fucking himself on Arthur’s cock, using him for anything, and Arthur just feels hot, getting hotter, wishing he could see or touch or just fucking come already.

He whole void is Eames, and he doesn’t realize he’s said the name until Eames says, “Yes, Arthur?”

Arthur thrusts up, his nerves are tingling and he feels like he’s been hanging at the edge of orgasm for so long, feel so good for too long. 

“Please, god, Eames, fuck,” he says and then tugs at the belt on his wrists, hoping that Eames can makes sense of whatever he's just said.

Eames laughs and starts to speed it up, riding him now with a hand on his chest and Arthur does moan, finally lets his mouth open and all kind of noises spill out, groans and whines and Eames’ name. Eames makes a tight noise in response, and then just murmurs “ _Arthur_ ” like it’s the filthiest word he can think of.

He can feel Eames clench up, his rhythm stutter, the moment right before he comes and it’s almost enough, but it isn’t. The jizz hits him in the chest, in the chin, and he feels Eames slump, sliding off his cock onto the bed next to him, where he starts touching again, flat palms all over him.

“Fuck,” Arthur says and it sounds like it’s been ripped from his throat. “Fuck, please,” and he thrashes, his right leg sliding over the sheets and he thrusts up into nothing and Eames presses down on his chest, and he wants to see, needs to touch his cock which is hard and so fucking close.

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay,” Eames says and kisses him while he pulls off the condom and slides a hand down his cock. He pulls it slowly, slowly, just like the pace he’d set before and Arthur doesn’t think it’ll be enough. 

Eames is holding him down though, rock solid and heavy and so methodical, and the pleasure feels warm and curls up from his belly into his neck, into his mouth where he’s still kissing Eames. His body goes slack with it, he’s sagging into the restraints instead of pulling, surging.

Eames moves off his mouth, licks the shell of his ear and kisses his jaw, still pumping his cock. Then he bites down hard on Arthur’s neck and Arthur seizes up and comes messily over both of them, seeing white in the blindfold, his whole body rolling with the orgasm and the heavy aftershocks. 

He’s not sure how long Eames keeps him pinned before he tugs up the blindfold and kisses the side of his mouth.

“Are you alright?” he asks, face close, and Arthur just closes his eyes and nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, that was,” Arthur pauses. “It was really good.” He opens his eyes and Eames is still there, and he’s smiling.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, and reaches for Arthur’s wrists.


End file.
